


All Dressed Up and Naked

by silentdescant



Series: Babygirl [2]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Daddy/little - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feminization, Genderbending, Genderfluid, Kink Exploration, M/M, Nicknames, Women's Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: Lauren wanted fem!Mitch in panties and one of Scott's sweatshirts. This is set in the same universe as Babygirl.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to RagingRainbow for the beta and encouragement!!

Scott looks up from his computer at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Mitch stands in the doorway—poses, more like. He’s wearing one of Scott’s giant sweatshirts and no pants, clearly a ploy to distract Scott with his newly clean-shaven legs. Scott puts his computer on the bedside table. He’s obviously done being productive for tonight.

Mitch waits with his shoulders and hips artfully cocked, bracing himself with one hand on the door and one on the doorjamb. The cream-colored sweater is about two sizes too big for Scott, so it drapes over Mitch’s torso like a tent, hanging down to mid-thigh and exposing a tantalizing stretch of collarbone at the neckline. It fits him more like a snuggly dress than anything; with the sleeves bunched around his hands it makes him look very small and sweet.

Then Mitch drags his tongue across his lips, wetting them slowly. His eyelids are lowered to half mast, and his eyelashes seem unusually dark and full. Scott amends “sweet” to “sensual”, though the effect is ruined half a second later when Mitch chuckles, flashing brilliantly white teeth. His lips are flushed dark pink and the contrast is striking.

“Somebody’s feeling frisky,” Scott murmurs. He wants Mitch to join him on the bed, but the way Mitch is standing, the way he’s _posing_ … he has something in mind.

“She is indeed,” Mitch replies. He drops one hand to his thigh and draws his fingertips in a quick, light circle across his smooth skin.

“I see you shaved.”

“Freshly waxed,” Mitch tells him. “Went to a salon.”

Scott feels his eyebrows jump up; he’s never been good at hiding his surprise. “Is that where you were all afternoon?”

“And other places. I did some shopping too.”

Scott can sense where this conversation is heading. He rakes his eyes up and down Mitch’s body. “Anything you want to model for me? That sweatshirt isn’t new.”

“No…” Mitch smirks and finally comes into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. As he struts over to the bed, he pulls the hem of the sweatshirt up his thighs. Scott sees a flash of lace, a floral pattern stark against Mitch’s pale skin.

“Show me,” he demands.

“She’s shy,” Mitch says, holding back a smile.

“She’s not shy, she’s a tease,” Scott corrects. “Show daddy what you bought, babygirl.”

Mitch pushes his tongue between his teeth and grins wickedly. That expression and that outfit, somehow they make him look much younger, even though he never looked so feminine when he was actually a teenager. Mitch takes a couple of steps back from the bed and rises up on his toes—his toenails are painted, Scott notices, a dark shade of green. He lifts his arms and twirls like a ballerina.

The sweater billows out from his body and grants Scott a brief look at the forest green lace underwear Mitch is wearing. It’s not his usual fare and Scott is fascinated by it, especially when Mitch bites his lip and slows to a stop. He gathers a handful of the sweater in one hand, lifting it out of the way so Scott can see. It’s women’s underwear, and Scott doesn’t know how Mitch even fits in it, but it seems to hold him in completely.

He finds himself reaching for Mitch, only realizes it when Mitch bats his long eyelashes—make-up, he must be wearing make-up—and asks, “Do you like it?”

“Come here,” he breathes. “Let me see.”

Mitch steps close to the bed, sliding his thigh right into Scott’s outstretched hand. Scott swings his feet over the side of the bed and sits up fully. He drags his hand up Mitch’s thigh until his thumb encounters lace.

“This is nice,” he says. It’s a wholly insufficient adjective and Scott regrets speaking at all, but Mitch’s smile softens as he looks down at Scott, fondness lighting his eyes, so maybe it’s okay. “More than nice. Sexy,” Scott adds.

“When I was at the store I had to buy them,” Mitch tells him. “I saw the lace and it matched my nails and I couldn’t resist.”

“Baby’s a shopaholic,” Scott says. Mitch doesn’t even try to deny it, just shimmies his hips a little, drawing Scott’s attention. He’s somehow positioned himself so there’s barely a bulge in the front of the underwear.

“I had to try them on in the dressing room.”

Scott looks up. He’s trying to picture it, trying to imagine Mitch finding a pair of women’s underwear on a shelf and asking for a fitting room. He can’t breathe. He should’ve been there. “Tell me,” he says, his voice tight.

Mitch’s tongue pokes out between his lips, slides over to the corner of his mouth. “It was fine,” he says quietly. “She didn’t even bat an eye.”

Scott brings both hands to Mitch’s hips, fitting his thumbs in the little hollows there. He can feel the coarse lace against his palms. “How did it feel? How does it feel, baby?”

For a few seconds, Mitch doesn’t answer. Then he pulls the sweatshirt up over his head, revealing himself fully. Flat chest, taut stomach, bony hips, and the dark green lace standing out in high contrast to his skin. He drops the sweatshirt to the floor and strokes his palm slowly over the front of the panties.

“There it was exciting,” Mitch says. “Here, it just feels… pretty.”

“It is.”

“Do you like it?”

“The real question is, do you?” Scott asks, though he can tell Mitch loves it, loves how it feels or how he feels in them. Or both.

“You hate it.”

“I don’t, I promise,” Scott assures him quickly. “I just want to know how you feel. I want to know everything.”

This is something that Scott doesn’t always understand, but he’s trying. He wants to know how Mitch’s mind works, wants to know what sets him off and why. He wants to know if there are triggers, things that he does, or things that Mitch does, that make him feel feminine. He wants to understand it so that he can talk about it, so that he can play into it, if that’s what Mitch wants. It seems like it’s what Mitch wants. They’ve never talked about it explicitly, but he knows Mitch pretty well by now, prides himself on being able to read Mitch’s subtlest expressions.

“You should buy more,” Scott says. He tucks his finger into the top of the lace, pulling it slightly away from Mitch’s skin, then lets it snap back with a soft slap. “It looks so good on you, baby.”

“Thanks, daddy,” Mitch replies.

“Anything prompt this whole… look?”

Mitch shrugs his shoulders. His hands roam over his smooth, bare skin. “Just felt like it.”

“Pretty girl,” Scott murmurs. “You look good in everything and nothing.” He stands up, keeping hold of Mitch’s hips so he can’t move away, and catches Mitch’s lips with his own. He can taste the velvety hint of chocolate when he pulls Mitch’s upper lip into his mouth and bites. It’s a lipstick he recognizes.

Mitch wraps his arms around Scott’s neck and rises up on his toes again. He holds on tight, his arms locked, until Scott takes the hint and lifts him by his hips. Mitch hooks his legs around Scott, and Scott has nowhere else to grab but his lace-covered ass. He likes how the fabric feels under his hands. He scratches it with one fingernail, delighting in the way it catches and drags.

Mitch smacks his shoulder. “Don’t you dare tickle me,” he says breathlessly.

“Not tickling, just…” Scott digs his fingers in, squeezing Mitch’s ass with both hands. “Feeling. It’s sexy. I like it. A lot. I like it a lot.”

Rolling his hips, Mitch pulls back far enough that Scott can see him smirking as he says, “I can tell.”

“I wanna fuck you, but I don’t want to take these off,” Scott says. He spins them around and drops Mitch as gently as he can on the bed.

“I don’t want you to fuck me,” Mitch says. “I wanna suck your cock until you come on my tits.”

He says it so seriously, his tone almost matter of fact, but his face, his expression makes Scott choke. Mitch’s eyes are half-lidded again, dark lashes casting long shadows across his cheeks from the bedside lamp, and his lips are full and wet, dusky lipstick smeared around the corners of his mouth. Mitch leans back for a moment, arching his back so his body is stretched and taut, and slowly cups his pecs with his hands. He doesn’t have enough body fat to squeeze them into a facsimile of breasts, but he pinches his nipples and rubs them to hardness. They cast shadows across his chest too.

“Fuck,” Scott breathes. “Yeah.”

At some point, Mitch is going to wear these lacy panties again, and Scott is going to pull them to the side and fuck him so hard, make him come without even taking them off. He files that scenario away for later examination.

“Yeah, babygirl, come suck my cock.”

Scott takes a couple steps back from the bed, leaving room for Mitch to slide down to his knees. He does so gracefully, slipping off the bed like water, landing softly and immediately reaching for Scott’s jeans. While he opens Scott’s fly and shoves down his boxers, Scott lays his hands carefully on Mitch’s head. He misses Mitch’s hair sometimes—no matter how much Mitch hated the texture of his hair, Scott always liked running his fingers through the baby-fine strands—but the peach fuzz that covers his head now is so soft, Scott could happily spend all day petting him. 

“Gonna mess up your make-up,” Scott says. He strokes his thumb gently beneath Mitch’s eye.

“It’s okay,” Mitch replies. He flashes a bright grin up at Scott before scooting forward and brushing a kiss to the lower curve of his stomach. His lips tease the trail of hair as he drags them down, down, down.

He leans back again to stroke Scott’s cock, his fingers deft and familiar. He spits into his hand and spreads the precome already leaking from the tip down the shaft, squeezing at the base, pulling out every trick he knows will get Scott off quicker. Watching him, Scott is suddenly struck by how magnificently feminine Mitch looks today; obviously it’s intentional, with the make-up and the lacy underwear, but even just Mitch’s features, his full lips and sharp cheekbones. The perfect arch of his eyebrows. The doe-eyed look he flits up at Scott.

Mitch moves forward again and takes the head of Scott’s cock into his mouth. His face is in shadow now, and his tongue is hot like liquid fire on Scott’s dick. Everything feels hot, suddenly, and there’s sweat prickling at the small of Scott’s back, and on his forehead, and he has to work hard not to immediately thrust into Mitch’s throat.

That’s not the mood. He knows that. He knows this is going to be slow and thorough and deep— _fuck_ , Mitch slides down and his lips feel like heaven—and he shouldn’t fuck Mitch’s mouth and make everything end too quickly.

Mitch draws every motion out a little bit too long. He’s teasing, he’s a tease, such a tease, walking in here wearing Scott’s sweatshirt and dark eyes and not much else, and Scott honestly can’t think of a moment tonight that he had control of what was happening. It’s unusual and it’s apparently a major turn-on he wasn’t aware of, judging by the fact that his entire body is already tense with the desire to come. Mitch is running this show and he’s doing a phenomenal job, swallowing around Scott’s dick and caressing his balls with his fingers and holding Scott still with one hand on his hip.

Mitch is talented at this, there’s no doubt about it, and Scott forgets for a moment that he’s not supposed to come down Mitch’s throat. His thighs are shaking with the effort of holding himself upright and his hand on Mitch’s head is no longer gentle. The reality of Mitch nearly naked on his knees while Scott is still fully dressed hits Scott viscerally and ratchets him up quickly toward orgasm.

“Shit, baby, I’m close, I’m close,” he gasps.

Mitch swirls his tongue around and pulls back with a loud release of breath. “Yeah, daddy, come on my tits,” he says, leaning back on his heels. He pushes his chest up, tosses his head back, and Scott grabs his cock, knocking Mitch’s hand out of the way so he can stroke himself to completion.

He can’t tear his eyes away from the harsh shadows playing across Mitch’s prominent collarbones, the tendons standing out in his neck, the sharp angles of his jaw. He comes with a short, choked-off cry, nearly losing his balance as he watches his come splash across Mitch’s smooth skin and drip down over his nipples.

“Fuck, yes,” Mitch breathes. His expression tightens and he drops one hand to squeeze his cock through the lace panties.

“Baby, baby, come up here,” Scott says. He doesn’t bother cleaning himself off, not yet. He slides his hands beneath Mitch’s arms and hoists him up, spreading him out on his back on the bed. “What do you want, babygirl? What do you want?”

“Wanna come,” Mitch says.

“Want me to—” Scott stops before he says ‘suck you’ because it feels inappropriate somehow. He doesn’t examine that instinct too closely, just trusts it. “Do you want my mouth on you?” he asks instead. “Want my hand?”

Mitch is rubbing himself with his open palm, rolling his hips up into his hand, his desperation clear on his face. “Just—With the—”

 _With the panties on_ , is what he’s trying to say. Scott loses his breath for a moment at the realization. He climbs on the bed and bends over Mitch, hands firmly braced on either side of his torso. He ducks down to swipe his tongue through the mess of come on Mitch’s chest, laps his way over to one nipple and sucks it between his teeth.

“Oh, oh, god, fuck,” Mitch groans. “Yes, that, yes, please.”

Scott gives Mitch’s other nipple equal treatment, reddening the skin with his teeth and his tongue before moving on. He traces the lines of Mitch’s ribs, dips his tongue into his navel, nibbles one hipbone, then stretches back up to kiss Mitch’s mouth. The lipstick is smudged even more now, rubbed off completely at the center of Mitch’s lips, and Scott can barely taste the chocolatey flavor of it under the more pronounced taste of his own come. He licks into Mitch’s mouth and swallows all the high-pitched noises he makes.

“That’s it, baby. You gonna come in your panties for me?” Scott watches Mitch’s mouth drop open, watches his dark eyelashes flutter as he blinks and then closes his eyes. Scott’s flying by the seat of his pants, fumbling in the dark for what he thinks—hopes—Mitch needs right now. It’s instinct, and it’s reading Mitch’s body language, his expressions, his reactions. Scott licks his lips and deepens his voice, lowers himself to murmur directly into Mitch’s ear. “Get ‘em all wet for me, you dirty little girl. Fuckin’ love the lace on you, baby. So sexy. So fucking hot, Mitchy. It feels good, doesn’t it? The lace on your pussy. Tell me. Tell me how it feels. Tell me how much you fucking love it.”

“Yes, it feels—it feels good, it—I—I love—I’m so close, daddy.”

Scott lays his hand over Mitch’s and presses down, giving him more leverage, more friction to rub against. He’s doing most of the work with his hips, arching up off the bed with each thrust, his stomach and thighs tense and shaking with effort. 

“Come for me, babygirl,” Scott says. “Such a good girl for me, such a tease in that sexy fuckin’ lingerie, baby, it’s so hot, you’re such a pretty girl, Mitchy, my gorgeous girl, baby, come for me now.”

Mitch chokes and gasps, throwing his head back against the bed. Scott laces their fingers together and guides Mitch’s hand, cupping and grinding, and he feels the wet stain of come seeping through the lace.

“Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it, babygirl, I can fucking feel you, _yes_...”

Mitch tugs his hand away, slips free of Scott’s grasp, but Scott leaves his hand where it is, providing passive friction for Mitch to keep rutting against. Mitch’s hands are wandering, caressing and stroking his own torso the way he did earlier, teasing his nipples, rubbing through the drying streaks of come that Scott missed with his tongue.

It takes a while for Mitch to open his eyes again. 

“Hey there, beautiful,” Scott says. Mitch has stopped squirming, and his frantic breaths have almost returned to a normal pace. “Welcome back.”

“That was a lot,” Mitch replies. His voice is gravelly and exhausted.

“I could tell.”

Mitch licks his lips and stretches languidly, then curls into Scott’s waiting arms. He’s clearly not ready to talk about it, so Scott files away all the questions racing through his mind. He wants to know, he wants to understand, but he can’t force answers out of Mitch. He can’t make it an interrogation.

They’re both pretty disgusting right now, though, and definitely tired, Mitch more so than Scott in both respects. So Scott takes it upon himself to roll out of bed and dampen a washcloth, splash some water on his face, strip out of his clothes. Mitch is spread out on the bed when he returns, and Scott catches the glimmer of reflected light in his dark eyes that shows he’s still awake. Scott doesn’t speak, doesn’t make Mitch speak, just swipes the cloth over Mitch’s chest and down to his hips.

“I don’t wanna take ‘em off,” Mitch murmurs.

“It’s gonna get gross,” Scott warns him.

“I’ll deal with it later.”

“You sure?”

“Gotta wash off the makeup before bed anyway. Just want to nap right now.” Mitch lifts his hands and wiggles his fingers in Scott’s direction, silently calling him closer. “Cuddle me,” he says.

That’s a request Scott can never resist. He hangs the damp washcloth over the footboard so he remembers to rinse it out later and crawls into bed beside Mitch. They fit together easily, like second nature, limbs tangled in a familiar knot.

Now isn’t the time to talk. Nonetheless, Scott can’t help but ask, quietly, “Was this what you wanted?”

“It was perfect,” Mitch replies in a sleepy, slurred whisper. “I didn’t have a plan, I just… I wanted…”

“It’s okay, we can talk later.” He kisses the side of Mitch’s head, lips pressed to the downy hair above his ear. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Mitch sighs. Scott feels his chest expand and contract at least three times before he answers, “I’m happy.”

 

 _fin_.


End file.
